


Safekeeping

by ami_ven



Series: On the Run [11]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU from Season 1, Alternate Universe, Community: mcsheplets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all the stuff they brought from Earth, there’s one box that’s always been locked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safekeeping

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #039 "locked up"
> 
> (These will be posted here in publication order. To read them in internal chronological order, head to the [LJ master post](http://ami-ven.livejournal.com/360539.html).)

In among all the things Rodney had brought with them from Earth, there was only one container he kept locked. It was small, one of those old metal cash boxes, dinged a few places and completely unremarkable.

John had found it for the first time while he’d been taking inventory of the rapidly-dwindling supplies in their puddle jumper. He moved it to the ‘inedible and non-medicinal’ stack and forgot all about it.

He’d seen the box again when they moved into the empty Ancient outpost, but John didn’t think to question the battered little box’s existence until they had finished building their cabin. They kept everything that could possibly be re-used— those hard-scrabble months on the run had left a permanent mark— so the box had ended up in their collection of ‘things we might need someday’, tucked into the little storage space at one end of their bedroom.

Behind John, the bedroom door opened. “That child is finally asleep,” said Rodney, flopping onto their bed. “It took three bedtime stories. Three! And I couldn’t remember the ending to _Goldilocks_ , so the last one had to be a brief biography of Marie Curie.”

“Good choice,” said John, knowing that Rodney would have told their daughter stories all night, if she’d asked. “And the bears eat Goldilocks.”

“They do not,” Rodney protested. He sat up and frowned at the box in John’s hands. “Where’d you find that?”

“In the closet,” said John, sitting on the bed and setting the box between them. “I didn’t open it— you’re allowed to have some secrets, Rodney. I can put it right back where I got it from, no more questions.”

Rodney waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, it’s… it’s yours, actually. It’s things I took from the SGC before I left. I thought you might not want to see them right away, so I put them in the box.”

“And forgot about it?” John asked, teasing.

“I have much more important things to remember, thank you very much,” Rodney retorted. “But I _did_ remember that I put the key in my small tool kit.”

He slid over to reach under the bed and pull out the wooden tool box. A few seconds of clattering produced a single metal key.

“You want me to open it?” John asked.

“It’s yours, Sheppard,” said Rodney. “You can get rid of it all, if you want.”

Frowning, John turned the key and opened the box.

Inside was his entire military career, in tangible objects. Carefully, John took them out— his dog tags, his rank insignia, an Atlantis jacket patch, a flash drive labeled _Service Records, J. Sheppard_ in Rodney’s familiar handwriting, neat square boxes that held all of his medals and service ribbons— and looked back up at his husband.

“You kept these, all this time?”

Rodney fidgeted. “I thought you might want them, someday.”

“Well, you were right. I wouldn’t have wanted them, back then. But I’m glad you kept them.”

“You were a good officer, John,” Rodney said, softly. “You should be allowed to remember that.”

“Thank you,” said John, with a small, genuine smile. He set everything, just as carefully, back inside the box, then locked it and held out the key. “Keep this for me?”

Rodney took it, looking confused. “Why?”

Leaning closer, John took Rodney’s other hand and pressed it to the place, just above John’s hip, where he could feel the scar, even through John’s t-shirt. “Because you’re really good at saving things,” John breathed.

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age,” said Rodney, rolling his eyes.

But he kissed John anyway.

THE END


End file.
